#but at some point when you agree to do x you have to do x or at least think about how not doing x would impact the other person

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[dnvrsmedia]

Worth the Fight

Sevika x reader

a/n: no descriptive terms used for reader!

warnings: slight arcane act 2 spoilers READ AT YOUR OWN DIGRESSION, hurt/comfort, domestic!sev, isha & jinx mention!

word count: 2581

Adrenaline thumps with a high pressure through Sevika’s veins. She can feel her heart pumping so hard she wonders how it doesn’t burst through her chest. This is not what she expected when Jinx agreed to breaking into Stillwater. The place isn’t necessarily the most welcoming (even though she is very familiar with the prison) yet, a ten-foot-something killing beast was not on her bingo card. At this point she wonders why she has any expectations when Jinx is involved.

These past few weeks, Sevika has wondered if this is what will finally kill her. If all she ever has been good for has been a soldier. First under Vander, then under Silco, and now? She tries to keep hope, but all she can feel is despair. The dark and looming feeling felt thick in her throat like the gray. Decaying her insides until she asphyxiates on its rot. That is until she comes home to you. All of her doubt leaves her body once she steps foot into your shared space. The smell of your body wash mixed with the candles you always have lit immediately relaxes her. Her shoulders no longer feel like it's holding the weight of Zaun once she’s home. Meeting you has single handedly given her a new wind beneath her wings.

Throughout her time fighting for independence, she quickly realized just how insignificant her life is, or at least that’s what she’s been told. She is always putting her life on the line for the greater good. She stopped fighting so that she could live the life she thinks everyone else deserves. Hell, she doesn’t believe she deserves half of what she is fighting for. Sevika knows she has done some unsavory things in her past. Things she won’t ever forgive herself for doing. Gods, Janna knows she’s been nothing close to a saint. There are things she’s done that haunt her in her dreams, and she thought she has come to terms with this fact. The fact that not all is good in love and war. Not all of the horrors she's experienced and been on the other side of producing were necessary.

She never saw a life for herself post Zaun independence. Ever since she joined the fight, she's only seen herself dying alone in one of three places: in a fight, in the brothel, and at the end of a bottle. So she drank and smoked and gambled and fought her life away, because it's the least she could do. She fights so that the next generation doesn't need to skirmish with each other in the lanes. She fights so that not another kid gets orphaned by the mines or the chembarrons, or shit, even shimmer, but fighting for her own life never even crossed her mind. Who could blame her if that is all she’s known? Her deadbeat father didn’t teach her the value of her worth, that's for sure. So, why would she bat an eye at her reckless lifestyle? Unexpectedly, that all changed. She didn’t see herself as valuable until you came into her life. You and your unabashed love for her. You and the light you bring to every room you step in. You and your confidence in Sevika to come back home to you. If Sevika is one thing she is loyal, and fiercely loyal she is to you. So when her priorities lied loyal to you, she was forced to come to terms she never even dreamed of having. The sole idea of growing old and having a love like in the fairytales made her feel like a young girl again. Yet, this led to turmoil within her head. She now has to break down all of the things she’s barred herself from receiving, all of the chances at a semi-normal life. She now has to realize just how much she does want to live, and that is where her true fears lie.

Sevika didn’t start consciously fighting until you opened her eyes to what love is. She couldn;t deal with the heartbreak she brought you when she came home two weeks late after the blast. She will never forget the sobs of relief you made when she hobbled into your shared space, the horror in your eyes when you noticed her arm missing. No matter how frustrated and full of emotions you were, you never yelled. This is when Sevika knew you were it for her. Many times in her younger years did she disregard the advancements of genuine connections from others. She would meet someone, enjoy their company for a few weeks and then essentially ghost them. Only to return weeks if not months later looking for some fun. This never bode well with her flings; leaving constant screaming matches in her wake left her ears ringing with a headache. So when she essentially did the same to you (under different circumstances) Seviks assumed the same would be with you. Yet, to her surprise you stayed. She never understood how a gentle love found her. She spends her restless nights looking at the silhouette of your face, wondering how and why you chose her. Her whole life has been filled with loss and pain, gentleness is not something she has ever experienced.

“Sevika, take her and go!” Jinx cries as she tosses Isha’s small and frail body into Sevika’s muscular one.

Her eyebrows knit together as her body moves before her brain thinks. She must’ve frozen at the sight of the large beast slaughtering several Enforcers. With no second thought, her body is sprinting as fast as she can. The young girl in her arm (that she has started to grow fond of) lets out a series of cries as she tries to wiggle out of her protective grasp. Her cries drive Sevika to find a way out of the prison. The whimpers of the mute girl bore into her brain as memories of her as a young child resurface. The tears dripping onto her bicep keep her moving.

Sevika is unable to produce words to the young girl. She curses as she knows that the words and emotions were more of your thing. Sevika wants to comfort her and tell her that Jinx will be okay, but even she doesn’t know that for sure.

So, she tries to think of things you would do to keep Isha happy. How your gentle presence allowed for the orphan girl to have a liking to you. She tries to caress her head the way you’ve done when putting her to sleep, but the lack of another arm leaves it more difficult. The best thing she can do is ensure the girl's safety. Sevika shakes her head and digs deep in her bones for extra fuel. Her body aches and has been aching extra hard these past days, but giving up is not an option. So, she thinks of anything but the carnage she just bore witness to and the heaviness of her legs slapping against the harsh concrete. Images of rare late mornings with you start playing in her mind. The sleepy cuddles with you raking your fingers through her hair and caressing her cheek play like a bitter sweet movie. The face you made when she came home with Jinx and Isha follows next. The softness that overcame your features when Isha peaked from behind Jinx’s leg left a feeling in Sevika’s chest that she never felt before. Warmth radiated through her heart like turning on a heater on the first day of winter.These thoughts carried her from topside to your shared home in Zaun.

The heavy footfalls outside of your humble apartment left your blood fall chill. Flashbacks to when Sevika came back from nearly dying left your heart beat pumping triple time. The door flings open to see a disheveled Sevika carrying an almost identical disheveled Isha. Your heart sinks as you piece what most likely had happened.

“Baby?” Your voice cracks as you walk closer to assess damages.

Sevika tries to hold on for you and for Isha, but knows if she speaks, tears will come. So she resorts to grunting. She hands Isha over to you and walks to the bathroom. You gape at her for a moment before springing to action. It isn’t until you feed, bathe, and clothe the young girl until you see Sevika step out of the room. You take that as a sign that she is ready to speak and you carry the young girl to the couch. Isha is knocked out at this point, you assume the combination of her crying and all that just went on really worn her out. You give the girl one last rub on the back and leave her with a kiss to the forehead.

You pass the kitchen to see the plate that you had left for Sevika to have been gone and in the sink ready to be cleaned. A small smile adorns your face as you are grateful for the fact that she was able to eat. You grab two glasses and fill them with water for you to bring to your shared bedroom.

You gently knock on the door before opening to see Sevika staring out the window. You make your way over to her side of the bed and rest the glasses of water on the nightstand. She doesn't even notice your presence until a small ‘clink’ of the glasses takes her out of her trance.

“Baby, what happened?” You take a seat right next to your lover, raking your fingertips up and down her spine. You can feel just how tense her whole body is as she sits rigid like a statue.

A shaky sigh is let out from Sevika as her eye contact remains looking at the darkness outside. The two of you just sit in silence for a bit until Sevika is able to start from the beginning. She lets you know just how terrified she actually felt at that time, she lets you know just how weak she felt without her arm, and she lets you know how you and Isha were the only things keeping her going. She lets you know how you were her north star and how without you, she would have just given up.

“I don’t even know what I am doing anymore, babe.” A stray tear finds its way down her cheek.

“All I ever do is fight and I just don’t know how much more I have in me. I'm tired…I am so tired.” More tears silently flow against your lover's cheek, breaking your heart at the sight. You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears she was too lazy to do herself.

Tiny cracks in your heart open like bullet wounds at her admission of her thoughts. You’ve known this to be true for a long time, yet being the protector that she is, Sevika never opened up to you about it. It is now time for you to put your strong face on and pick her up when she’s low, just like how she’s done for everyone else her entire life. You turn her face to look at yours, your tender hand contrasting her firm jaw. Sevika is reluctant to show you her brokenness, but she is just too tired to care at this point. Her eyes look past yours, darting around the room to find anywhere but your eyes.

“Look at me, honey.” You caress her cheek in hopes to coax her out of her mental prison. Your patience knows no bounds and that makes Sevika feel things she can’t even start to comprehend alone.

Her eyes trail to your own, swimming with emotion. She sees her future in your eyes and it scares her. You give her an encouraging smile and she feels her walls cracking.

“I- You’ve made me realize the things that I wish I could have and it scares me. I had nothing to lose for so long, and now I have so much on the line.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Seeing the way you’ve completely changed my life confuses me. I know I don’t deserve a life that you are making me dream of.” Your eyes go wide at her confession to you.

“I never gave myself the opportunity to even imagine a world where I’m not alone, you know? But that day I came home to you after the explosion…It confused me. You have been the only constant in my life and I guess it just really hit today.” She nuzzles her face into your palm as you kiss the top of her head.

“Baby, you it hurts me to know that you can’t see just how much you deserve.” You lean in so that both of your foreheads are touching. Your eyes never leave her puppy dog grays.

“Because you know I am with you until the end. You are it for me Sev, you hear me? Whatever it takes.” You can barely get out the last of your words before Sevika is kissing you with all of the energy she has left. She may not be the best with her words, but she needs you to understand just exactly how you make her feel.

The kiss deepens as tears shed freely between the pair of you. Your bodies pressing close to one another, trying to engulf each other to become one. It gets to a point where Sevika has to pull away to catch her breath, but she doesn’t let you go too far. She stares at you in silence, taking in every aspect of your being.

“I’m terrified because you make me want those things. Having Isha here and seeing how you take care of her…” Sevika turns her head in slight embarrassment.

A huge smile adorns your face as you try and not scare her from opening up.

“Do you mean?” You whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d jinx (no pun intended) yourself.

Sevika’s face is hot with awkwardness at her vulnerability. She hasn’t spoken these words aloud to anyone, especially yourself.

“I want to keep waking up to you and Isha making breakfast. I want to keep teaching her how to tinker and fix things. I want to come home from work to see you both dancing in the living room. I want to grow old with you, baby. Seeing just how quick all of that could have went away, Gods that fucked me up.” She uses her hand to tug her hair away from her eyes.

“You were the only thing on my mind. I had to keep going for you and Isha.”

And now it is your turn to start crying. Your tears freely fall for the love of your life. The privilege you have had to see Sevika grow into the woman who is sitting in front of you.

“I want all of that with you, are you kidding me? You’re the woman of my dreams babe. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” You laugh teary eyed and smile at the smirk your lover returns.

The two of you share quite giggles as you both crawl into bed. The day is finally settling and Sevika is definitely feeling its effects. You hold her in your arms and try to burn this into your memory forever.

“So…you wanna be Mama Sev, huh?” You tease and laugh at her body going rigid.

Taglist:

@ab2ysw1fe

@queenabrahel

@queenabrahel 

@caicreations

@caicreations

@arevik2345

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@sevikellsss

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[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Scarlet Moonlight

Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!reader

A/N: Just bullet points to something I might expand on. So please feel free to ask about these two because I have more than just this in mind~

-Wanda hates humans.

-Wanda is told to get a human pet by Nat.

-Wanda refuses and goes out to go find a meal.

-Wanda lets her eyes scan over the club, trying to pick the best meal

-Then she sees you, grinding up on some girl. A toothy grin. Canines are almost as sharp as hers.

-She tries to ignore you, but through everything she can hear the growl, you let out when the girl tries to leave a mark on you.

-She's next to you in an instant. A practical death grip on the drunk girl's shoulder.

-The girl runs off terrified of Wanda.

-You roll your eyes, and each of you can smell it immediately. What the other is.

-You try turning around and leaving to go find someone else to bring home.

-Wanda has made up her mind. Pulling you out of the club.

-Sure you were stronger than humans, but Vampires are stronger than werewolves in their human form.

-You find yourself in a penthouse. You're basically in the clouds. Everything smells metallic.

- “I was told to get a pet. I decided that was you.” She'd say.

-You scoffed, “Just because I'm a werewolf doesn't mean I'm a pet.” A low growl comes out.

-For weeks you fight Wanda as she holds you there captive.

-The whole time, she's sweet as you growl and bite when she gets too close

-But then it happens... your heat cycle...

-You feel like you're going absolutely mad with need.

-You try fixing the problem yourself, but it's not helping.

-Wanda even gave you heat pills to try and calm it down, but still, it didn't help

-Then it happened. She came to bring you food in the basement you were kept in, chained up.

-You got a wiff of her scent, and it wasn't that metallic smell you were used to it was what was beneath that which you hadn't noticed before; cherry blossoms.

-You grab her with a strength she hadn't seen before.

-You pull her close; flush against you and growl in her ear, "Let me do this, and you can drink."

-She agrees, and you're pulling her clothes off.

-Your member is throbbing as you slip it into her, and you are the farthest thing from gently. Luckily, a vampire can take it.

-When you knot and finish inside of her, you find yourself biting her neck, marking her as yours, something you'd never once thought about doing to someone.

-She returns the bite in kind with her own, the two fangs sinking in as you feel her drinking your blood.

-You continue rutting and whining as she drinks.

-You wake up in a bed you don't recognize, silk scarlet sheets, the room is dark with just a little light filtering through the sides of blackout curtains.

-You turn over to find Wanda there, sitting up and reading a book.

-She looks at you with a soft smile, "Feel better?" Her voice is just as soft as she reaches out.

-Her fingers are freezing but gentle as she pushes some hair behind your ears and gently scratches.

-Everything she has done with you since bringing you here has been soft and gentle.

-It has you melting, making satisfied noises as you push into her hand, your eyes closing.

[velvet4510]

Why Magneto’s Storyline in X-Men: Apocalypse is The Worst (it’s not just Cherik)

Ok I just need to vent because this has been chewing away at my brain for far too long.

Cherik is far from the only reason why Erik’s family plotline in X-Men: Apocalypse is some of the stupidest, sloppiest, and most character-ruining pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Haters may say “oh you’re just upset because he married someone who wasn’t Charles.” But, like, aside from the fact that the original timeline already established that Erik’s top priority was always the fight for mutantkind and he had no interest in settling down - whether that had anything to do with his feelings for Charles or not - the problems with the Apocalypse writing go WAY beyond just him & Charles:

Erik would never abandon his cause at this point. By the end of DOFP, Erik has just been imprisoned for a full 10 years thanks to the JFK situation. Meaning he has spent a full decade being forcibly inactive in the fight for mutants. And he just learned that all of his fears about humans and mutants came to pass in the future to the level where a time-traveler had to be sent to change the past. And he was so set on averting that future that he tried to kill his friend and the sister of the man he loved, and then made a whole speech on international TV begging for the mutants of the world to fight alongside him. This is the POLAR OPPOSITE of a man who would feel like settling down and walking away from the fight within the next decade. The Sentinels being cancelled did NOT make mutant life easy overnight; Stryker was still up to no good, and there is no way that there weren’t others like him doing the same. Yes, Raven’s actions made a very positive difference, but I think we have enough brain cells to agree that this did not mean things for mutants immediately became sunshine and rainbows to the level where Erik - the most (understandably) paranoid character in the X-Men series - would even consider taking a break, let alone giving up the fight permanently. Knowing what he did about the possibilities of the future would’ve made the Erik we know double down on his commitment to his cause and follow up on his actions in Washington.

Erik wouldn’t risk starting a young family at this moment in his life. Erik was a Holocaust prisoner, his people were massacred, his mom was shot when he couldn’t move the coin, and then Charles was shot when Erik accidentally deflected a bullet into him, and then every member of his Brotherhood save Raven were captured and killed. Not only is this more than enough grief for one character to have, but the man wouldn’t dare risk having a new family of his own when everyone he’s ever loved has gotten hurt (largely because of him), and when he’s an international fugitive. That is no time to risk being selfish, and he would know. He would’ve been the first to realize that a potential spouse and child would also end up killed, and so he’d avoid that altogether. In fact, he wouldn’t even consider it, because, as mentioned, he wouldn’t leave his cause behind. You know, if he was actually in character.

Magda is a human. At this point, Erik hates humans. Again, he has just been imprisoned by humans for 10 years for trying to save a mutant, and he just learned that in the future, humans would’ve wiped out mutants, exactly as he feared. Everything that happened in DOFP would only further inflame his already-passionate hatred of humans. He is not in the mental state to even begin to consider Charles’ philosophy and give a human a chance at a relationship, let alone marry a human.

The family lives in Poland. The country where Auschwitz is. The country where Erik and his family and people was imprisoned, tortured, and executed. The country where Erik had to watch Shaw kill his mother. Basically the LAST country in the freaking WORLD that Erik would want to ever see again, let alone spend the rest of his life in. Erik is fluent in multiple languages - he is shown to easily converse in French and Spanish in First Class - and has been all over the world thanks to his Nazi hunting, so if he really needed to flee the U.S., there were a hundred other countries he could’ve gone to and blended into (Canada, France, Mexico, anywhere in South America, heck, he even could’ve discovered Genosha during this time). But in the original timeline, he didn’t leave the U.S. at all despite being a national fugitive after escaping his plastic prison, and he never did get caught again, so….

Erik’s first meeting with Magda is completely OOC for him. Erik mentions that he told Magda who he was the first night they met and he trusted her then. EXCUSE ME??? Erik Lehnsherr does not trust strangers. Erik Lehnsherr does not tell the complete truth about himself and his past to just anyone; look at how deeply Charles had to probe before Erik opened up to him. This stupid line was obviously shoehorned in just to make their relationship seem like perfect soulmates and thus ensure it is doubly tragic when she gets thrown in the fridge 5 minutes later (more on that in a sec). Obviously the intention is for the audience to go “aww, he instantly trusted her, she instantly accepted him, this is true love…” Give me a break. You’re really telling me that Magda met this stranger one night, found out he was none other than the international fugitive who apparently killed the U.S. president and just tried to kill another president on live TV, and went “oh, no problem, honey, let’s make a baby and live the cottagecore dream!” That’s some BS if I’ve ever heard it, and I’m convinced the writers subconsciously knew it; there’s a reason that is revealed in a throwaway line rather than shown onscreen, because then nobody would’ve bought it.

Fridging. Magda and Nina exist in the movie for one reason and one reason only: To get brutally killed and give Erik even more grief and trauma so that he’ll seek revenge on the entire world, aka do what the plot demands of him, aka have the same journey as he did in First Class (more on that in a sec). That’s all. Neither of them are any more than one-dimensional plot devices. They are not characters at all. Magda isn’t even named in the actual movie (he doesn’t even say her name when she dies) - it’s so obvious they didn’t even know what her name would be when they made the movie. This is textbook fridging, and one of the worst examples of it of all time. It’s all the worse considering that Erik never met Magda in the original pre-DOFP timeline, meaning Magda originally most likely lived a long happy life and died old in bed. But now, she gets fridged just because the writers didn’t know what more to do with Erik. It’s misogyny of the highest level.

A parenthood story for Erik was already set up. DOFP already hinted at Erik being a father, with Peter’s comment about his mom. So if the writers wanted to show Erik as a father, and to include Magda, they already had a solution that would seamlessly flow from the previous film - make Erik and Peter’s relationship one of the centerpieces of the story, and let Magda be Peter’s mom! (You know, like she is in the comics!)

It doesn’t contribute anything new to Erik’s character development. From a screenwriting POV, this is unforgivable. May I remind you that Erik’s entire storyline in First Class revolved around grief and trauma for the loss of his family and people, especially his mom, and seeking revenge for it. Giving him a wife and daughter just so they can get killed too adds absolutely NOTHING to his character development. It’s merely retreading everything that already happened in his arc: he loses his family and goes on a roaring rampage of revenge. Completely superfluous, right down to Charles insisting that there’s good in him beyond the pain. The redundancy becomes apparent even in the dialogue, where Charles literally says “I told you since I first met you there’s good in you too.” The script itself can’t help but point out that all of this has happened before and literally nothing new has been added to Erik’s character arc.

See? It’s not just because of Cherik. Erik’s story in X-Men: Apocalypse is an atrocity in basic screenwriting and character development, on every level. And I will never accept it.

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way…)

[revelboo]

sometimes i think this is how some of the bots think about humans

lowkey don't know how to feel about that myself, i actually put myself in some of the human's shoes and wow it's no easy task to deal with their situation and having to keep themselves calm

That’s probably how a lot of them unconsciously view humans because of the size difference.

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 4

Scavengers x Reader

• By virtue of Swindle’s reputation as a crook, Misfire voted Crankcase to use the language file and everyone else agreed. Most likely the con wouldn’t intentionally off a customer he can scam again, but still. Now Crankcase leans over where the human is sitting on a crate, little legs dangling and heels thumping against the side, and he spouts gibberish at you. Your head comes up, eyes widening as you say something back and get to your feet. “Do you understand it?” Krok demands, right as your little shoulders slump, hands gesturing.

• When the one with the chunk out of his head starts talking and you recognize human language, you lunge to your feet. Asking if he knew your language, because while the sounds are familiar, it’s still nonsense to you. And he’s just staring back at you in incomprehension. It’s the wrong language and you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry. Or scream. You’re still stuck at square one playing charades with giant, alien robots.

• “Still gibberish,” Crankcase growls, leaning back as the human goes on a rant, little hands flapping about and gesturing before you flop back down in frustration. Reaching out he nudges your shoulder with a servo and you immediately swat him. Those eyes glowering when he uses that same servo to tip your chin up. Because he gets it, to be so small and trapped somewhere? Unable to communicate? You must be terrified even if you hide it well. And that’s something he understands. What happened to him left more scars than just the chunk missing from his head. Sometimes the other Scavengers come up on his bad side and he almost swears it’s Thunderwing looming up behind him, that old nightmare digging it’s claws in.

• “Of course it is,” Krok sighs, slumping back on the bench in the cargo hold. Doesn’t even realize when he starts clicking the device in his hand because it’s become a nervous habit by this point. Whenever something goes sideways, he plays with it and now you look up at the noise and meet his optics. As he watches, you hold up your fist, thumb moving to mime him until he stops. “Signal that crook.”

• “I told you,” Misfire growls, wings flaring as he watches you stop copying Krok and look up at him. Unable to understand, but trying. Those intelligent eyes alert. As he watches, Spinister finds that stuffed animal as big as you are and pushes it firmly at you, knocking you flat on your back as you wrap your arms around it in self defense just to get him to stop. “I mean, his name is Swindle,” he mutters as he stalks off.

• Arm looped around the stuffed bear, you crane your neck to watch the one with wings stalk off. They’re obviously all unhappy and it hurts to get your hopes up only to have them crushed again. If you can’t communicate, you can’t ask to go home. You’ve tried mimicking some of the sounds they make, but they always just look at you funny. Expressions giving away that they can’t even tell you’re trying so hard. That your attempts are just nonsense to them. Anxiety lifting through you, you’re aware of the biggest one, the one that had found you and ran you down, still staring at you. He’d scared you nearly to death then, but if he hadn’t spotted you that day? You’d have probably starved on that barren world, scared and alone. He saved you whether or not he realizes it.

• “Think they really were a pet taken after the war?” Fulcrum asks as you chatter at Spinister, trying to get back up only for him to keep pushing you back over with a servo. He’d stop him, but you’re laughing instead of angry. “Why abandon them out here?” Because you haven’t been that much trouble except for the handful of times they’d accidentally poisoned you trying to keep you alive. Swindle’s food at least had been legitimate, though whatever those black and white discs are, you’d tried to devour the entire package as soon as they weren’t paying attention to you. And he’s almost positive you had been swearing at him when he had to take the package away to ration them out slowly. Like now as you manage to get away from Spinister and move as close to him as you can get, big eyes imploring as you hold out a hand. Aware of the others watching as he produces the little package and holds it out, holding up a servo of the other hand in warning. And huffing at him, you take only one instead of trying to snatch them all, reaching out as soon as you pop it in your mouth to pat his servo and mumble nonsense at him.

Previous

[naturesapphic]

Billie’s friends making fun of little gf reader making her cry but she doesn’t tell Billie until one day she overhears what her friends are saying💖

Bullies

Caregiver!billie eilish x little!fem!reader

Warnings: age regression, hurt/comfort, Billie’s friends being mean, bullying, Billie getting angry but not at reader

Billie’s new friends were coming over today and you were not excited whatsoever. They made fun of you and your age regression which obviously made you sad and cry. Billie didn’t know about any of this happening and you didn’t plan to. Even though they were being mean and making you cry, you didn’t want billie getting mad at you for thinking you were lying to her or maybe she would agree with them and leave you.

You were overthinking every possibility and it all ended badly so you decided to keep your mouth shut and just let them say whatever. You were playing in the living room when they came piling up in the house with Billie laughing behind them. “I’ll get us some snacks and drinks. Do you want anything babygirl?” Billie asked you with a smile. “M-mys juice pwease mama…” you said quietly as you didn’t wanna talk in front of her friends. “Good girl for using your words! I’ll be right back.” She said happily as she disappears into the kitchen, leaving you alone with her friends that were giving you smirks.

“Awwww your mommy gonna give you some juice?” One of them said in a high pitched voice making you whimper under your breath. “Yeah, I bet it will be in a little sippy cup.” Another one chimed in as they all started to laugh and point at you making you turn your head to ignore them. “Hey! Didn’t your precious mommy tell you not to ignore people when they are talking to you, inconsiderate bitch.” One of them snarled at you and you quickly looked up to see them all smirking at you. “I don’t know why Billie is even with you, if I was her, I would spit in your face and leave immediately. You’re such a freak.” One spat out and you felt yourself sobbing in the middle of the living room with them laughing at you.

“Call her a freak again and see if I don’t come over and kick y’all’s asses.” Billie said sternly as she comes into the living room with your sippy in one hand and snacks in the other. “Mommy!” You gasped in surprise but she didn’t look your way just yet, not wanting to scare you with the look on her face. “Get the fuck out of my house right now.” Billie said coldly as she sets down the snacks and your sippy cup on the nearest desk that was near her and she walks over to you. Billie stands in front of you as her old friends all get up, them getting scared as Billie looks like she was gonna kill them. “B-Billie I promise it was all a joke. Right y/n?” One of them said and they gave you eyes that said “you better not fucking rat us out” but you shook your head instead, then they started glaring at you which made billie more pissed.

“You guys are fucking pathetic. You guys know I trusted y’all with this and you guys seemed so understanding about it. Now I can clearly see that y’all are not and you had the balls to make fun of my girlfriend AND make her cry. Leave my house and never fucking come here and contact me again.” Billie spat out and they all rolled their eyes and left the house, leaving you and Billie alone. Billie looked down and saw your tear stained face and she immediately lifted you up in her arms. “It’s okay babygirl. Mama is here now.” Billie said quietly as she holds you close to her as you clung onto her like a koala. “You won’t have to see them ever again.” She reassured you and you nodded your head against her chest. “How long has this been happening sweet girl?” Billie asked you gently and you shyly hid in the crook of her neck.

Billie frowned and rubbed your back “it’s okay baby. I’m not gonna get mad at you. You can trust mama.” She said and you shifted and looked up at her with sad eyes. “E-evers since w-wes tolds dems a-abouts I-it’s…” you stuttered and you felt Billie hold her breath in. “That was a four months ago baby…why didn’t you tell mama?” She gasped quietly and looked at you with sadness in her eyes. “S-scared…Nu wan chu to lose chu friends.” You said and Billie leaned down to give you a long kiss on your forehead. “Babygirl. I don’t wanna be friends with people who make fun of you and make you cry, you understand me?” She said looking in your eyes and you nodded your head slowly. “That’s my good girl. Now. Do you wanna sit and watch some cartoons with mommy?” She said happily and your face beamed up at her. “Wes Pweasie mommy!” You bounced in her arms which caused her to laugh. She carried you over where she placed down your juice and snacks and gave you your sippy. You immediately grabbed it and thanked her as you started sipping on it happily. Billie carried you back into the living room where she sat on the couch, with you still in her arms. She grabbed the remote and turned on one of your favorite movies and you leaned back into her while drinking your juice. As you watched, Billie was looking down at you with pure love and adoration in her eyes. No one was gonna mess with her baby ever again when she’s around.

A/n: hey guys! Glad to be back, gonna try and post more and get out all these requests so I can get prepared for Christmas so I’m excited. Thank you for the request anon and I hope you all enjoyed! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! :)

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

i've been seeing a lot of posts recently about the proship community, and their "obsession" with complaining/talking about them, saying stuff like "i miss when fandom was more than just "i ship taboo things and that's my entire personality"", and i think i disagree with a lot of those posts.

the thing with fandom is that it used to be that way, UNTIL antis started policing what you could and couldn't do. it was inevitable that some of us were gonna double down and talk very openly about all the dark stuff we ship. is it totally reactionary? yes. was it without cause? no. this stuff doesn't happen in a vacuum.

but also, like. i feel like y'all (not you reading this post but. the ppl that make those kinds of posts) are missing out on a few very key details, being:

the proship community was started as a reaction to antis in the first place. they are intrinsically linked together, whether we like it or not. being proship is reactive, fork found in kitchen,

all these different terms exists because of antis, not because of proshippers. complain all you want about "x/y is a comship!" or "a/b is a darkship!", because i agree, it doesn't matter! it's all shipping in the end! antis are the ones that actually gaf because to them it matters A LOT if you ship The Bad Thing™,

fandom is what you make of it. if you don't wanna ship taboo things, have at it! do what you want forever, but the need to shame people that like darkships and talk abt it openly on their blogs is odd,

you don't have to tag generic fandom stuff with "proship", you are allowed to exist in the main tags!! you don't have to go searching for positive fandom stuff in the proship tags!!

i think y'all forget this is a blogging site, not just a social media site. i'm here for my *own* enjoyment, entertainment, and sometimes catharsis. if i see an annoying take from an anti, i'm gonna post about it, bc it's *my* blog. yes, we can (and often do) block antis, but that doesn't mean we can't bitch about them. the blocking feature exists for everyone, and if you don't like what those kinds of proshippers talk about, block the individual, not just the tags.

like, i'm sorry to break it to you, but things don't have to be all unicorns-and-rainbows positive all the time. sometimes we wanna bitch and complain, and that's OKAY!

there's nothing wrong with having your "entire personality" being liking darkships! (i have issues w that phrasing btw, bc most of the ppl that talk Like That™ are bait accounts, or it's a side account where they only want to talk about their darkships. point is, them liking taboo ships is def just one facet of their personalities, not their whole personality)

the problem isn't people in this community "killing the vibe", the problem is you letting your vibes be killed by stuff you don't like!

[lvrrgirlll]

Tolerate It (series)

Synopsis: Life as Patrick Zweig’s controversially young girlfriend should have been a dream, but it was anything but. He was a broken man. You were a girl who knew all too well. Who’s to say whether you’ve got it wrong now…

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, reader is jealous and somewhat paranoid, references to cheating, creepy old men hitting on reader, both Patrick and reader get much needed wake up calls…

Notes: This entire part is kind of frustrating BUT it’s so necessary in the progression of the story y’all! It will all come together trust!! (Also I’m on Thanksgiving break soon so I’ll be able to write more)

Previous part

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Part 3: Things fall apart

2029:

Weeks before you two had agreed to the interview, you already knew Patrick was going to retire. It hadn’t been announced at that point, but you knew. It had come after a particularly bad fight.

“But you don’t understand, Patrick! You’re not listening to me! It’s not easy for me, I feel like I drop everything to be there for you all the time. When was the last time you honestly did anything for me?” You shouted at him, frustrated at the fact that you were even having this fight. He had complained that you didn’t seem so supportive of him going for a spot in Wimbledon in the upcoming season, which you hadn’t been because you were tired of traveling all the time and being alone during the day while he practiced incessantly. That didn’t seem so hard to understand to you. He had won several titles over the past few years. What was one other?

“Oh, I don’t do anything for you? Who payed for the house we’re in right now? Who bought you that dress? Who bought that huge fucking rock on your finger?” He fired back angrily. You hated fighting like this. It always reminded you of the power imbalance between the two of you.

2020:

After finding out what you did, you decided not to confront Patrick. It must’ve been your mistake. You wrote it off as foolish assumption on your part. In your gut, though, you knew better.

You two went on like normal for a while. He went back on tour for a bit. With this newfound information, you definitely called him more often than before. He didn’t seem to mind though, which honestly surprised you for a bit. You half worried about annoying him, seeming like just some ridiculous kid, but at the end of the day, you did really care about him, and would do anything to make sure he stayed with you.

On a cool, Spring Saturday evening you called him, knowing he shouldn’t be busy given the time. Much to your dismay, though, no answer. Fuck. So you called him again. Still no answer. Doing what any rational person would, you checked his location. He was at some bar. You felt defeated. Surely he was with some whore. Then a terrible, horrible idea came to you. What if you drove out to where he was playing? What if you drove out to that bar? …No, you couldn’t. But then again…it was a Saturday night. You weren’t busy. And he was far, but realistically, not that far. A 4 hour drive. So maybe he wouldn’t be at the bar by the time you got there…but then again, maybe he would be? Your curiosity jealousy got the best of you as you grabbed your keys, slipping on your shoes and heading out to your car.

You drove like a bat out of Hell, surely speeding, but you hardly cared. You were fueled by your paranoia. What was he doing at some random dive bar? Why wasn’t he answering your calls? You intended to get answers to both of these questions.

Driving so quickly, you shaved a whole hour off the drive, arriving at the run down looking bar a little past midnight. When you got there you parked, slamming the door before marching into the building with purpose. Upon entering, you took in your surroundings. It was dim, most light coming from neon signs for different beer brands. There were a few pool tables off in one corner, an empty stage, and the bar, which looked to be the type that really only served beer or whiskey. Why on earth would Patrick even be at a place like this? He’s gotta be with some girl…

It wasn’t too busy. There were a few older looking guys at the end of the bar, not “older” like Patrick— actually older— and several ladies who looked to be in their 40s, loudly cheering with margaritas in hand. Still no sign of Patrick. You were still stood by the door, looking down at your phone to check his location, which still pinpointed him right at the bar, when you noticed the older men leering at you.

“Hey princess, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here,” one of the men hollered. You tried to avoid eye contact, walking further into the bar and therefore away from them. There were several guys who looked to be closer to Patrick’s age crowded around the pool tables, so you walked in that direction, hoping Patrick was among them. With your luck, however, none of the dark, curly haired men were Patrick.

“What’s your name sweetheart,” one of them purred, leaning on his pool cue and eyeing you up and down. You felt uncomfortable, but definitely safer here than with the old guys from the front.

“Um- I’m looking for my, uh, boyfriend. He’s been here for a while, supposedly, and I was just kind of worried about him. H- have you seen a guy like this?” You turn your phone, then, showing off your lock screen which is a picture of you and Patrick cuddling in bed.

The man laughs in response, nodding his head in the direction behind you. “There’s your man, but uh, I don’t know if you’ll wanna see him…” he said smoothly, with a sense of pity filtering through his words. Your heart sank before you even turned around, and everything felt like it had just become slow motion. You turned around, seeing Patrick in a dark corner making out with another girl. You could hardly see her with his hands all over her face, but she looked to be sort of young like you. What the fuck?

“Hey, I’m sorry-“ the man behind you offered, but you walked away from him without another word. You approached Patrick quickly, reaching him finally. Despite your loud steps against the creaky wooden floor, neither he nor the girl he was currently kissing turned in your direction. Before you could even think of a strategy, you just let out a defeated assertion.

“Patrick.” His eyes immediately opened as he practically pushed the girl off of him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Fuck, uh, what are you doing here?” That was all he could offer?

“You didn’t answer my call,” you replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You weren’t even sure why this hurt so much. You knew he was fooling around on tour…it was just something about him avoiding you to do so that really got you. The whole thing got to you, honestly, but you had been kidding yourself for months. It just finally fell apart.

“So…you came to my fucking location,” he questioned, looking at you with wide eyes. ‘He thinks I’m crazy…’ you thought. You looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry here in this stupid dive bar in the middle of nowhere in front of him and his girl of the night.

“I didn’t know what else to do…I- I was worried,” your words were shaky as you spoke, your lip quivering. The girl he was with had walked away at this point, presumably assessing the situation enough to decide that it was best for her to leave. Patrick’s expression had changed from shock to pity.

“Baby, c’mere I’m so sorry…come on,” he tried to pull you into a hug, but you pushed him away.

“No Patrick, I don’t- I don’t want to just hug and forgive you all over again,” you sniffled, looking at him not with anger, nor sadness, but betrayal.

“Again?” He asked, looking confused.

“I saw your texts with that other girl from Savannah months ago when you came to visit. I’ve known for a while…” you murmured quietly. His eyes widened again, clearly shocked by this information.

“Shit- uh, you saw that? Fuck- why didn’t you say so sooner, oh my god.” You looked at him and no longer saw that man who could’ve hung the moon and stars. Now when you looked at him, you saw him how he saw himself: a pathetic loser who was in need of a serious reality check.

“Fuck you Patrick. I’m done.” With that, you moved to leave the bar, but he gripped your wrist as you turned, stopping you. “Let go of me,” you ordered, looking at him sternly as tears rolled down your cheeks. He did as you said, letting you go before chasing after you. In the parking lot he met you by your car, leaning on the door to keep you from leaving. “Move,” you muttered angrily.

“Baby, come on, just tell me what I can do. I can change, really, I promise. Please, I don’t wanna lose you.” It felt like bullshit, but it was honestly the truth. You were the most consistent thing he’d had in his life for a long, long time. I mean, hell, you two had been together for 9 months now. For him, that was like forever.

“You want to change, Patrick? Really, you want to change? Well here’s some advice then: get your shit together. I don’t care what you have to do. Go talk to your rich old daddy, ask him for a loan, and actually get back to where you deserve to be in your career. Fix your fucking relationship with your friends, because I know there’s still something there that you won’t tell me about, and I’m sick of it. And finally, actually learn how to be a good boyfriend. Don’t be such a man whore, it’s really not as attractive as you think it is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving. Give me a call when you’re a changed man.” And with that, he silently moved out of your way, watching you get in your car and reverse, leaving him standing there alone in the parking lot.

[samhainsflesh]

Midnight Hour (Cowboy!Logan x Fem!Reader — Western AU)

Summary: It’s past midnight. The saloon is closed and you’re fixing the mess that’s been left behind.But the night takes a twist when Logan uses the bar to hide from the town’s sheriff.

Tags: western, enemies to lovers, angst, sexual tension, passionate kissing, a bit of fluff.

Words: 2.3 k

A/C: I’ve been watching a bunch of westerns lately so I had to do something with Logan.

AO3 link:

✞﹏𓃗﹏✞

You are cleaning up the broken bottles and beer spills of that night after the saloon closed. The wooden doors are shut. Past midnight, death lingers in the valley; the only sounds are the distant howls of coyotes. Every now and then, you’d hear the crack of gunshots, the frantic pounding of horses’ hooves running from one place to other, or an occational scream cutting through the darkness. But not a single soul dares to interfere in the affairs of those who own the night. 

You take a glance out the window. The wind stirs up the dirt in clouds, carrying it across the streets. The full moon lights up the shape of two horses riding in the distance. It’s the sheriff and his right hand going their rounds, circling like wolves — searching for something, or someone. 

Out of curiosity, you lean out of the window for a better look, but as soon as you stick your head out, a hand covers your mouth. Your heart leaps as you find yourself face-to-face with a man with a cowboy hat, mutton chops and a plaid shirt looking at you dead in the eye.

"Let me in, darlin’. I’ll pay for the beers" he mutters.

You try to speak, but his hand tightens over your mouth as he gets closer to you.

"You don’t wanna get yourself hurt now, do ya?’

You shake your head.

“Atta’ girl. Open the door.”

With your trembling hand, you unlock the door. The man comes in a blink of an eye, asking you to lock the door again. He procedes to bring the window shutters down.

You run towards the counter, your eyes locking on a broken bottle lying on the floor. Grabbing it by the neck, you use the jagged edge like a weapon, pointing it at the stranger.

“What do you want?” you tell him as you step closer.

He grins under the brim of his cowboy hat and leans back in one of the chairs, kicking his boots up onto the table.

“Relax, I don’t carry guns. Don’t like’em.” He says holding his hands up, showing you they’re empty. “You can put that down”

“What about a knife? you got one?”

He chuckles, quite amused, but his smile fades quickly “Look, I don’t have much time, I need you to listen carefully”.

“We don’t have much money if that’s what you’re after.”

“We?” he narrows his eyes “Is someone else here?”

“No” you answer way too quickly.

A noise that comes from the backroom of the saloon draws his attention.

“No?” he stands up towering you “I think you’re lyin’ to me sweetie” 

You try show you’re not afraid by sitting down besides him, holding his gaze. “Just tell me what you want, jackass” you say firmly, though yours hands shake a little. 

The stranger notices this. 

“You got some nerve in you” he leans back in his seat again.

“I deal with men like you every night”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’ve ever met a man like me” he makes a brief pause “You can call me Logan”

“ I’m not telling you my name”

“That’s fine, the less we now about each other, the better”

“Agreed” You say, placing the broken bottle on the table but keeping it within reach.

“Alright, speak, girl” he says firmly. 

“That’s the owner of the saloon in the backroom. You don’t get to hurt him, you hear me? he’s old, he can barely hear a thing”

Logan’s expression softens just a bit “I won’t do anything to you or him, as long as you behave. Listen, I got into some trouble, alright? The sheriff’s out looking for me. I just need to lay low for a couple of hours, and then I’m gone. I’ve had enough of this damn town already.”

“Are you a bounty hunter?”

He scoffs. “I wish I was one. At least i’d get paid for this crap”. He leans closer to you, dropping his voice “Lock the old man up in the backroom. You’ll stay here and cover for me. And don’t even think about trying anything stupid, sweetheart” He continues “Also, I know everybody around here keeps a shotgun behind the counter, so you’re gonna hand over the one you’ve got ”. 

You narrow your eyes and rise slowly, your movements are delibarte. You head towards the counter, aware of his boots following behind you. The weight of his gaze presses against your back, and every time you glance over your shoulder, his eyes are locked on you, unflinching. 

You grab the shotgun from the counter and lay it down in front of him. “There you have it…Logan”. A smirk draws in his face as he hears his name coming from your lips.

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Before you respond, The back door opens. The old man steps in. Panic flashes across his face. Though his hearing is far from perfect, his instincts are still sharp enough to grab the shotgun from the counter.

Instantly, Logan grabs you by the waist and pulls you firmly against him. His arms encircle you, holding you immobile. And then it happens. 

Claws cut from the flesh of his knuckles. The bones extent aiming the sharp ends at you.

The old man stares horrified in desbelief as he loads the gun “What… what are you?”

“Right now, I’m your fucking problem.” He says as the edge of his claws come close to your neck.“Put the gun down, it’s useless”.

Logan notices the genuine fear in your eyes, although you try to take hold of your trembling body. 

He leans closer to you. His warm breath brushing your ear as he whispers “Don’t worry beautiful. I’m not going to use it on ya. Just help me calm him down”. A weird mixture of unease and desire twistes in your insides.

“H-hey, leave the goddamn gun. He’s going to kill us both if you don’t, old man” you gesture the man as you speak to make your point. At first the old man resists. But he loosens his grip when he reads your lips saying : “please”. 

The second the old man lowers his guard, Logan knocks him out. 

As soon as the body hits the floor you run towards the man to check on him. He’s just momentarily passed out.

Anger clouds your thoughts as you stand up and sucker punch Logan straight in the face. 

“Damn. I deserved it, alright” he responds, rubbing his jaw.

You raise your hand to give him another swing but he grabs you by your wrists. His grip is firm enough to stop you but very careful so he doesn’t hurt you.

“Careful, darlin’” he warns in a serious tone

“Bastard” you spit on him.

“He’ll be okay” 

“He better be or-”

“Or what? you’ll kill me?” he interrupts, leaving you speechless.

Your head is a mess. Confusion, anger, attraction, everything at once. 

“I need your help” he speaks softly letting go of your wrists. “Just need to finish this and I’ll never bother you and that old fuck again.” You nod. “And don’t hit me again”.

He releases your wrists. You both stare each other for a second without uttering a single word.

“First, help me carry the old man upstairs. I’m not chaining him in the backroom” you demand.

Logan helps you lay the body of the old man in the bedroom upstairs. Time passes by in that small room as you both sit in silence, looking through the window.

“How can you do that? that thing with your bones” you finally break the ice again.

He shrugs “ I was born like this”. 

“Are there more like you?”

“Hey, I thought you said you didn’t want to know anything ‘bout me”

“That was 5 minutes ago, previous to the… claws” you pause “Do they hurt when they come out?”

“Every time” 

You get closer and closer to him. He’s very still, holding his arms crossed. He analises your movements with his eyes. You extent your hand to touch his knuckles but his first reaction is to pull away, a little scared. You notice there’s a vulnerable side to him, you know he’s scared to hurt you with his claws. His hands show no sign of damage, the skin is completely healed. “Fascinating”

You can sense his eyes locking in you with a soft gaze. “You ain’t scared?”

“Well, a bit” you respond with sincerity “but I’m mainly surprised” pause “Is this why they’re chasing you?”

“Well, it’s a lil complex…”

Your conversation gets interrupted by the sound of the pound of the horses’ hooves marching towards the saloon. The sheriff and his right hand nock the front door of the bar.

You grab him by the shirt and shove him into your closet. “Stay quiet” 

Dowstairs, the sheriff saluts you “G’night, girl. You were closing?.”

“Yes”

“I know it’s supposed to be closed by now but may we come in? We’ve been searching for this looney in town for hours and we’re thirsty as hell”

“I don’t know, I should ask the owner. I’m not allowed-”

“Come on, it’ll be just a minute” the right hand insists.

“ Just a minute”.

Both men enter the room as it was theirs. "Where’s that old timer of mine?"

“Sleeping. He was very tired”.

“Poor old man huh, always working. Serve us some beer please ” 

You hand them their drinks. As they finish the beers in a hurry, The sheriff’s wingman noticies a spot of blood on the floor and broken glass, alongside Logan’s hat.

“Tough night?”

“Yeah, some fellas got into a fight. One even forgot his hat. You know how those animals are”

“those pigs” replies the right hand.

As you try to keep the sheriff distracted, a loud creak echoes from upstairs. Your heart stops.

“What was that?”

“Just the old man. He sometimes moves in his sleep”

“Mind if I check upstairs?”

“No problem” you curse under your breath.

In the room, the old man snores. The sheriff scans the room with his eyes. Everything seems in order. He looks back at you. 

“You sure you’re alright, miss? You look a little pale.”

“yeah, it’s just a headache” 

“Alright, we won’t bother you no longer. Thanks for the drinks. If anything happens you let me know. Good night.”

Both men leave the place, riding their horses.

You quickly go upstairs. “Logan? Logan?” you call for him with a hint of despair in your voice.

The closet door creaks open, and Logan steps out, dusting himself off.

“This damn thing wasn’t built for a guy like me,” he mutters, glaring at the splintered wood.

You sit on the floor, overwhelmed by the situation. 

“You were worried about me weren’t ya?” he answers fixing himself up. “You actually helped a convict escape, that’s a federal crime ma´am”

You are still absorbed in your thoughts. 

“You’d make a hell of a sidekick, y’know ”

You glare at him without answering.

“Or a hell of a lover.” adds with a playful smirk

You stand abruptly. 

“I’d never be with someone like you” you reply as you go downstairs, avoiding him.

He follows your steps. “You wouldn’t date a freak?’”

“I wouldn’t date a criminal”

“So you don’t mind me being a freak but you do mind me being a criminal? you’re adorable ma’am”

“I’m not” you tell him while you pick up his hat from the floor trying to return it to him.

“You are” he gently grabs your chin with his fingers. 

You feel the sudden impulse to kiss him. Both your lips close in a gentle kiss that escalates into a more intense one. The rush of adrenaline accumulated from the previous tense situation makes you both desperate for each other. Although he was much stronger than you, he let himself be guided by you against the counter. He raises you like a feather over the bar, placing his body between your legs. His kisses run through your neck, your arms. Every now and then, your tongue reaches his mouth with unspeakable hunger.

You pull him away. 

“Something’s wrong?” he asks trying to catch his breath.

“No. Yes” you struggle to sort out you feelings.

“I’ve got a couple of hours left here, if you wanna… get into it. I don’t mind doing it on the counter.”

“What about him?” You nod toward the room upstairs.

“Well, we’d just have to keep it quiet, wouldn’t we?”

You chuckle at his playful manners, but your smile fades as reality sinks in.

“I think you should go Logan.” You reach up, fixing a strand of his hair that got messed up during your heated moment.

“ That’s what you really want?” he mutters softly, looking straight into your eyes.

“Well… no” you admit after a pause. “But he’s going to wake up anytime soon. I need to fix this mess. Next time you come here, we’ll finish our business”.

“It’s a deal”

You’re still on the counter, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist. You place his hat back on his head. He gives you a small, genuine smile. For a man who seemed so rough and dangerous, there’s a softness to him now that makes your chest tighten.

You place a goodbye kiss on his lips “You’re not that bad for an outlaw with… claws”

“Thank you for everything, sugar. I’m really sorry for all this.”

Before stepping out, he glances back at you. “You haven’t told me your name.”

“Not yet boy, You’ll have to wait till next time”

“Can’t wait, ma’am” He tips his hat with a smirk before disappearing into the night.

✞﹏𓃗﹏✞

[call-sign-shark]

Omg that adorable gif is all of us now.

Thank you SO SO MUCH Flor. Really. I’m glad you love Amos as the complex and twisted character he is because I do too (well, not him per se but you know what I mean). When I created him I didn’t want him to be the cliche of the abusive, 100% bad guy. The disturbing thing is that he cares. He loves her — he loves her far too much, to an unhealthy amount. This, mixed with his dark nature, created a timebomb. He’s corrupted by nature, some say by birth other because of some black magic rumors. He was a constantly loving and controlling/toxic at the same time, which fucks Hev up…

I agree with you, Lucy is the real queen. Despite taking risks and owing nothing to Heaven she still tries to protect her the best she could. She’s incredibly strong and brave, taking into account that she’s abused by her horrible father too. Moreover, she was Hev’s main support. Really, the purest heart of all. 🖤 That’s why Hev is Lucy x Tom number 1 shipper aha.

Yeah! At one point she was pregnant but she drank moon tea to abort, fearing Amos would be even worse if they had a kid…

And finally, I am beyond happy you quoted the line about his mom because she is a good person. Actually, she’s both scared of her son and worried for him, knowing that something is wrong with him without having the slightest idea on how to help him. She just helplessly watches him becoming a more of a monster as time passes.

Notes: Lucy belongs to @mischievouslittlecreature. Inspired by Falling in Reverse "Bad Guy".

When Lord Amos Bolton’s obsidian eyes first fell on the young Targaryen princess, the world around him seemed to come to a halt. As cold as his heart was, cold as the wind of the North, her ethereal beauty and the way she smiled at him, relieved, made his head spin. Long white hair styled in complex intricated braids, hypnotizing blue eyes burning bright, doll face and petite frame, he came to realize that all that fuss about the future Queen’s appearance wasn’t just made-up rumors. She was the most mesmerizing creature he had ever seen. One look. All it took was one look for her to reach his soul and claim it. Cruel and incorruptible Lord Bolton, if he had never allowed himself the weakness of love, found himself momentarily paralyzed by a storm of feelings. It wasn’t just love that washed over him, but possession. An instant dark, all-consuming need took root in his chest, coiling tightly and twisting his every thought. Amos loved her, craved her like the air he breathed, but that darkness within him stained everything he touched and Heavenerys Targaryen wouldn’t be an exception.

She dismounted her gigantic dragon and smiled at him.

His heart skipped so many beats he thought he had an heart attack.

The grand hall of Dreadfort glimmered with hundred of candles, bathing the bleak and grey castle in a warm, welcoming light. As the union of Lord Amos Bolton and Princess Heavenerys Targaryen was announced, the murmurs of gathered Lords and Ladies fell silent except for one sole and discreet grunt that escaped Aerthurys Targaryen’s thin lips. Timidly, the 17 years old princess looked at her future husband and, only one micro second later, Amos’ dark gaze locked with hers, the air shifting around them.

Heavenerys’ heart thudded in her chest like war drums and dragons steps. She didn’t expect him to be like this – devastatingly handsome with his dark hair brushing the collar of his black fur cape, eyes so somber she couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris and a smile, as rare as fleeting, that would break the vows of the most pious woman.

“My Queen,” Amos whispered, “And light of my life” he added, bowing slightly and pressing a tender kiss to her hand. The heat of his smooth lips, accompanied by the brush of his beard, lingered on her skin with an intensity she had only experienced in Aerthurys’ bed.

Lady Bolton looked at her son with hope in her chest: maybe that Princess was the cure for Amos’ evil. But among the crowd of guests, one person couldn’t be fooled.

Later that evening, as the festivities continued in the castle, Lady Lucilla Bolton approached the future queen in a quiet corridor, her warm hand gently wrapping around the young dragoness’ wrist. Her soft red curls framed her face, whose frown couldn’t hide her concern.

“Princess, I know I shouldn’t tell you that but…” She quickly glanced around her, her emerald eyes surveying her surrounding in fear of catching sight of her father, uncle or cousin – all men cut from the same tainted and cruel cloth, “Beware my cousin the Lord.” Her voice sounded like a death-knell, “Amos is …”

A savage, she said.

Because far too many times she saw her cousin’s torture ideas, his favorite involving his pack of hungry hounds and poor prisoners. Each time he watched, his eyes shining with excitement at the grotesque murder scene and the agonizing wailings.

Obsessive, she breathed.

Because she remembered how nothing could stop Amos when he wanted something. She remembered how, when he was an uncontrollable teenager, he slaughtered an entire family because the daughter refused his courtship. Lucilla was still young, but she wouldn’t forget how horrified she felt when he stepped inside the castle, covered in blood.

Dramatic, she added.

Because he always found a way to attract the attention and pity to him with his smooth tongue.

A loner Whose social and caring demeanor in society were a mere façade, an attempt to hide his distrust to everyone.

An addict Living for power and control, the darkness he wielded consuming him.

So goddamn problematic, she concluded, her emerald eyes filled with fear. Everything about him was dangerous, and she didn’t want the young Princess to suffer the consequences of it.

Heavenerys smiled, faintly, her heart heavy with unease but her mind moved by Lucilla Bolton’s concern for her, a stranger and her future family at the same time, “Thank you Lucilla. I’ll be careful.”

But the queen’s promise faltered as days turned into weeks. Amos’ devotion was undeniable. His every glance was filled with both longing and love, his touch with utter tenderness. When he spoke about their future together, or when he pressed her head against his strong chest after they made love, she felt the walls she built slowly collapsing.  He had that way to kiss her that was so passionate, so full of lust, that the world seemed to vanish each time, leaving only the two of them. Amos made her feel cherished, understood and safe in way she had never known.

Lucy’s warnings, while still in the back of her mind, lost in seriousness. Amos Bolton’s flaws were merely scars from a life of pain and betrayal; she told herself. And she would heal those scars, she was sure of that. In her deep love and affection, Heavenerys failed to realize that Amos had her wrapped around his finger and that he would never let her go.

The air in Amos’ private chamber was suffocating. The young Queen’s absence was a wound he felt in every breath, a hollow ache that he could not ignore. A ache that was driving him crazy. After what he called a “fair retribution to cheating”, his cousin Lucy and her mother snatched Heavenerys from him. Admittedly, he knew his control had slipped in a way more horrid than he had expected, but it was his love and obsession that had driven him to hurt her. No, it was her. It was her and how she maimed his heart that had led to this situation. Before he could sink further into his torment and thoughts, the door of his bedroom flew open.

Lucy stormed in, her beautiful face pale with rage, “Amos!” she shrieked, her voice so sharp he almost felt it cutting his skin.

The King’s dark eyes snapped to her, narrowing in irritation, “May I ask what my young and nosey little cousin is doing here, screaming at me like a harpy?”

“You hurt her!” She screamed, her voice trembling with fury and her fists banging at his chest with all the hatred her little body could hold, “You’re a monster! She trusted you. She loved you! And you—how could you?!”

Amos’ hands shot out, iron-like fingers curling around Lucy’s wrists to make her stop. His grip was firm, unyielding, “Enough” He growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"How could you do that to her…” She repeated, but her eyes were wide open with utter terror.

He rose slowly, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the short redhead beauty. "Lower your voice," he warned coldly. But if Lucy was afraid, her rage roared stronger than anything else, “No!” With unexpected strength she drew from the maelstrom of fury that burnt bright in her chest, she managed to break free from his grip and, within the span of two seconds, her hand flew out to slap him across the face. The impact of her palm against his cheek echoed in the room, “You are –”

“What am I, little red demon?” Amos didn’t flinch at the blow. Quite the contrary, his lips curled into a bitter smile as he looked at her again, “Oh come on, Lucy, I’ve heard them all from you.” He retorted, his tone laced with mocking venom. Leaning close, his voice dropped into caustic sarcasm and a tinge of threat,” Amos! You’re a savage, you’re obsessive, dramatic! So goddamn problematic!”

Lucy’s breathing hitched as he took a step closer, his dark amusement turning into something colder and his smirk fading from his handsome face, “She fucked her cousin.”

“Nothing will justify what you did to her,” Little Lady Bolton spat, “She truly loves you and you, you broke her. Body and soul.”

For a moment, Lucy saw Amos’ face faltered, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t read. Then, he shook his head, “She will understand that it was necessary and then, she will come back to me.”  He might have sounded confident, but the weight of Lucy’s words pressed on him like a stone, blended with the image of Heavenerys tear-streaked face.

Lucy’s voice was a quiet tremor now, filled with both anger and despair because she knew he was right about the last statement, “I won’t let her.”

“Really?” He raised a brow, “Then I fear my beloved uncle and all the Kingdom have to know about the moon tea you guzzle each morning when that bastard Prince Thomaryon comes visit… And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, her face turning one shade paler as her cousin’s threat hung in the air. Her wide eyes, green like the most luxuriant forest of Westeros,  flickered with shock, then fear.  His words sunk into her like a blade. The mention of Thomaryon—of what she had fought to keep hidden—left her paralyzed, her composure crumbling under the force of his cruel smirk.

He knew.

Tagging: @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @cillmequick @novashelby @mischievouslittlecreature @shelbydelrey @wonderlanddreamer @peakyswritings @darklydeliciousdesires @lunarubra @wonderlanddreamer

[starry-bi-sky]

Out of Context Stuff for a Danyal Al Ghul au i haven't posted - Pit Beast Danyal

Damian, 13: Look, Danyal, -- I am so sorry for everything that happened between us in the League, I hope you can forgive me.

Danny, 10 (allegedly): (has been secretly plotting to murder Damian this whole time, is still gonna do it obvs, but is going to make it significantly less painful now)

Danny: I-- of course, older brother. :]

--------

Bruce: what do you have there, Damian?

Damian:

Danny: (a hulking 10ft pit beast standing beside him, growling idly with ram horns gouging out his eyes and a second set of horns jutting into the air, spines down his back, and a long, spiked tail with an animalistic, skull-like face)

Damian, who smuggled him in (they've made amends): a smoothie, father

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Damian: this is my little brother Danyal, i murdered him when he was five. He festered in rage for the last half-a decade, took over a League mountain base in Switzerland, murdered everyone inside and then tried to murder me when I went to investigate with Drake.

Danny: hello!

Damian: we're cool now

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Damian: thoughts on resurrection

Danny, (a full ghost): i will succeed in murdering you if you try it

Damian: we'll put a pin in it then

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Danny (still instilled with League values): why don't we just murder him??

Damian, on patrol (Danny followed him): we don't murder people, Danyal

Danyal:,,,,are you sick, Dami?? Have you been possessed? Why not!?

(There is raucous laughing through the comms)

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Danny, five, pre-death: Dami! :D

Danny, dead, vengeful: Older brother (:

Danny, post-forgiveness: Dami! :]

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For some actual context: Danny is fully dead in this au, its a result of the classic DPxDC Demon Twins "death duel" trope but instead of Danny getting revived, he stays fully dead. Danny was five, Damian was seven. His ghost lingered though, and due to the proximity of the pits his ghost steadily absorbed the ambient energy it was letting off. The pits are not corrupted ectoplasm in this au, it's just liquid ecto.

Which means Danny's corruption from an angry and hurt little ghost boy to an unrecognizable monster is from his own doing. It's a result of him stewing in his hurt and anger for years, it physically warped him. He's very powerful. Danny can travel between League Bases but chose a small, out-of-the-way base in the Swiss mountains to fester in and then just. Never Left.

His influence steeped into the very foundations of the building, allowing him to transform and warp the rooms and hallways for his own bidding, Meaning he could turn it into a seemingly unending labyrinth if he so wished to, and block the entrance.

Eventually, blinded (both metaphorically and physically) by his own rage, Danny grew powerful enough to appear physically in the living realm and attacked everyone in the base, slaughtering them all and leaving the base abandoned. He attacks anyone who dares enter -- whether that be other league members, or the unfortunate hiker who stumbled across the base. His conscious is steeped into every nook and cranny of the building, there is nowhere you can hide where he can't find. Nobody leaves without his explicit say so. Nobody ever does.

Him appearing as ten years old before Damian in the skits above is his own physical doing. First it was to prevent Damian from being suspicious of him. Damian initially thought Danny was revived with the pits, he was too busy with his own training afterwards to notice that Danny never showed up again, and when he did notice, he assumed it was because Danny was too ashamed of his loss to face him. He'd always forget to ask about him.

Then it becomes a personal choice to appear as ten. It's how old he would've been had he been alive.

danny forgiving Damian is kinda for an offshoot branch of the main au. Whereas the main au takes the form of a ps4 first person horror game where Damian and Tim are investigating the Base for Plot Reasons. There's no sign of the rumored "monster" living inside until the end, where Danny, who was found inside the Base and has been happily "helping" them look around, manages to persuade Damian into splitting off from Tim in order to "show him something."

This something turns out to be Danny revealing that he never really forgave Damian for that fight, and he reveals through a horrifying transformation, that he was the monster the whole time. Which the game subtly hints at throughout as Danny's strange behavior becomes harder to ignore.

First from his insistence to only refer to Damian as "older brother" (when before the duel he always called him Damian or Dami), to him right off the bat denying the existence of a monster when questioned. ("There's no monster here, older brother. It's just me.") To other various things, like his knowledge of the outside world not matching up to modern times or things going on with the league outside of the base, or what happened to the other league members.

This whole idea was inspired by the song "Scylla" from Epic the Musical, with Danyal being the voice of Scylla as well as Odysseus, while Damian stands as Eurylochus. The instrumentals after Scylla says "hello" is him turning into the pit beast, and Scylla's "drown in your sorrow and fears" part is danny, as the pit beast, snarling at Damian while he attacks him.

There's a Good Ending, a Bad Ending, and a True Ending. The Bad Ending results in Damian being killed by Danny, it happens when Damian decides not to question or suspect Danny and treats him kindly. The Bad Ending is a cutscene, where Danny kills Damian quick and painlessly.

Meanwhile the Good Ending is Damian killing Danny. This is a boss fight, and it happens when Damian treats Danny coldly and suspiciously the whole time. Danny as a result, decides to make Damian's death painful as he had planned to, which is why it's a boss fight because it only causes him to double down on his anger.

The True Ending is Damian escapes with Tim. It happens when you treat Danny warmly up until the last minute, where when Danny proposes to Damian that he wants to show him something, Damian goes to talk to Tim and finally, reluctantly agrees that something is off with Danny, and that he'll be careful going in. It starts off with the boss fight until a third through, where it then changes to a cutscene where Tim manages to get the door open and Damian escapes out. It's then a chase scene down a never-ending hallway as the building actively works to keep you trapped inside. But you eventually make it to the exit so long as you avoid all the projectiles and doors.

Remember when I mentioned that Danny only lets people leave when he wants them to? That's where the treating Danny kindly throughout the game comes into play. It causes him to second guess himself and, eventually, reawaken and strengthen the love and admiration he had for Damian prior to his murder. It's why in the Bad Ending he kills Damian quickly -- because by then, he loves him enough that he doesn't want him to suffer, but is still so consumed by his rage and need for vengeance that he kills him anyways. That quiet part is what allows Damian (and Tim) to find the exit, because some part of Danny still loves Damian enough that he wants him to live.

The True Ending ends with a cutscene of Damian and Tim tumbling out into the snow/grass outside of the base. Damian looks up back to the entrance to see Danny standing there. But rather than a ten year old boy, there's a little five year old Danyal Al Ghul instead. He stares at Damian emotionlessly, blood seeping from his chest, staining his clothes, and little, bloody sword in his hands and tearstains on his cheeks, before he turns away and disappears back into the building.

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[sysig]

He’s my little meow meow, my darling, my bbygirl (Patreon)

[starlooove]

He is in fact not cool with his friends killing people he just can’t do shit about it and the fact that he thinks he can do smth about (and does!) when it comes to his kids is like a major point

[arcticmist0324]

Have you ever been vindicated by the narrative, so to speak, but in a frustrating way you absolutely DID NOT WANT?

Like I got laughed at for calling the Brony fandom out on its bullshit back in the day. And now people who were very young fans have spoken out about how “okay being easily exposed to gore/NSFW material at that young of an age was not cool” ……. Guess who called that from the past.